


A Life Worth Living

by JSinister32



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Flashes of Memories, Kidnapping, Life After the Fall, Professions of love, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSinister32/pseuds/JSinister32
Summary: Hannibal has been missing for seven days, and in their current predicament, Will can do nothing except continue his search alone.  Will his feelings for Hannibal come to light if they are ever reunited?
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	A Life Worth Living

_Both love and death are uninvited guests._  
_-Sola_

* * *

Will ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up in a rioting halo of curls for what must have been the hundredth time. He stared into the fire, wishing upon every star in every galaxy that he had been wrong. He thought about praying, but put it out of his head. He knew that attempting to reach out to a deity that didn’t exist was laughable at best. _There is nobody that can help me. I just have to hold out hope._

It had been a week since Hannibal had disappeared. Will had tried to warn him it could happen, but Hannibal had brushed it off as paranoia. They always said that if there was a chance that they would be apprehended they would escape together to their next safe house, somewhere far from where they were currently located, and continue living as if every day was their last, much as they had done since the fall. They whispered promises to one another into the dark, their lips often so close it turned their words into kisses. Those kisses often deepened and brought their bodies together in a tangle of limbs until they were able to make love again. It happened so often in those first few weeks that although they should have been moving out of harm’s way, they spent their travel time behind the locked doors of hotel rooms or bedrooms of sanctuaries until their passions had cooled enough to allow move without distraction. 

They thought they had been so careful. It had been months since their journey had begun and not a whisper of the escape had been breathed to the press. Declared Dead all the papers had shouted, the letters in caps as they spouted off inaccurate details of the night in Hannibal’s home, the last few minutes where their old lives had existed before they began this new existence together. The Red Dragon had done a number on both of them; the wounds on Will’s cheek and shoulder had taken most of the time they’d been away to heal, and Hannibal’s bullet wounds had bled into the ocean with such ferocity that Will had been sure he was going to die. Hannibal had planned well though, and they had escaped in an older, nondescript car to the first of many safe places that the doctor had set up should he ever need to run again. The cabin had been small but clean and had more importantly been filled with the medical supplies they needed to patch eachother up. 

Will’s stitches in his cheek had healed beautifully; hardly a mark from the cut was left when they finally dissolved. Will’s unpracticed hands had done the best they could under Hannibal’s instruction, but the wounds still showed the jagged marks of his inexperience. Hannibal had kissed his fingers when they had inspected the healing progress together, and whispered that he would cherish the marks that had been left as a symbol of their emergence from the flames of their previous life. Will had wept that night, cradled safely in the doctor’s arms. They shared their first kiss that night, the gentle press of lips mixed with the tears that streamed down their faces. It was the first time Will had seen Hannibal cry since that awful night in his home, the night that Abigail died. These were the first tears they shared that didn’t hurt, but healed instead. 

It took them two more weeks of denial and concentration on their escape before they had fallen upon one another like ravenous beasts. Hannibal had been inspecting his face after he showered, checking the progress on the fading of his scars when their eyes met. Their kisses had been few and far between, both men still too fragile and mistrusting to allow their feelings to show. The look of unrestrained longing in Hannibal’s eyes had caused Will’s resolve to break and as their mouths met, the towel around Will’s waist had fallen away in a whisper. Hannibal’s clothes were shed not long after, and the touch of their skin for the first time had caused Will’s legs to tremble. While he always expected Hannibal to be a careful and generous lover, the reality had almost broken his soul. They didn’t leave their bed for hours and had instead given themselves over to the exploration of skin and heat and feeling that they longed for. When Hannibal finally breached his body as he lay gasping into a pillow, Will understood with perfect clarity that there was no completeness in his life without the man who was currently whispering in his ear, telling him how good he was doing and how incredible he felt. They had taken it slow on account of Hannibal’s wounds and in the end, Will had pushed him to the bed and ridden him so he could watch his face. Nothing compared to taking the control of their fucking away from Hannibal; he was so used to calculating every move and planning every step that to have to lay back and take was among the best feelings Will had ever experienced. The doctor’s hands felt perfect on his hips, exploring through the sweat that gathered along his body, making his movements warm and slick. When he tried to rock his hips up to meet Will’s thrusts, Will had simply taken him all the way into his body and waited until Hannibal relinquished control once more. Each time, they had taken it slower than the time before until Hannibal came to the realization that his need would be overridden unless he gave in. His orgasm would come with time and touch and trust; he had to let Will give it to him. And each time, Will had proven more than up to the task.

There had been the night at the opera, the first time they dared an outing into high society. The opera had been La Vita Nuova, and Hannibal’s eyes had lit up like a child on Christmas when they discovered it was being performed near them. Will had been unable to say no, and so they had purchased expensive suits and taken in the show. He could still close his eyes and feel the doctor’s hands on his skin, buttoning up the vest of his suit as he stood behind him, preparing for the evening. Seeing Will in a three piece suit had almost made them late for the opera, and had very nearly cost Will one of the buttons on his shirt. He had since taken to dressing up at random for dinner in one of the many suits he had collected over the months they’d been together. It always had the desired effect, and dinner occasionally burned as Hannibal stripped the suit away to get to the delights of the body beneath.

He remembered the first time he had seen the calm waters of the equator reflected in Hannibal’s gold and maroon gaze, the wind ruffling his fine, straight hair as he gazed about them in perfect peace. Maldives had been the ideal place to escape and they’d spent almost two months there, wandering the beaches and enjoying the quiet life in Hannibal’s beachfront property, their tans deepening by the day. Although it was smaller than many of the other places he owned, it was one of the most cherished locations in Will’s mind. He could still feel the hot sun on his skin, the joy at watching Hannibal brush the sand lovingly from the bottoms of his feet as they went inside to cool off. They had even managed a spiritual retreat, much to Will’s amusement. He had left the experience more in touch with his surroundings and feeling more himself than he ever had, and had thanked Hannibal for the trip profusely over the remaining days they spent on the beaches. Their lovemaking had been passionate, a melding of souls and bodies, and Will had discovered he was in love when they packed their things and left the waters, with a fervent promise on his lips that they should return one day. Will now wished they had never left. The words, much to his dismay, had never been uttered between them. Will wished with every fiber of his being they could change it.

The stop before their current location had been to a place Hannibal promised to never return, but Will had insisted its necessity with the promise of a surprise when they arrived. The Lecter estate had fallen into disrepair since Chiyoh was no longer bound to the location, and Hannibal seemed to take comfort in the crumbling of it’s walls. He told Will of Mischa’s grim fate and the likely part it had played in his descent into cannibalism. They stood on the crumbling stones and wept for a girl whose smile could have lit the inside of an underground cavern, a girl that had been gone so long that without the benefit of Hannibal’s memory palace, she would have faded into the obscurities of history to be left lonely and alone. Hannibal showed Will the grave he had been forced to dig for her, and together they redecorated the place where her bones rested. Will put in a discreet request within the town for a new tombstone and paid the stonemason handsomely to keep the purchase quiet. The silent threat of “or else” that passed between them did not go unnoticed, and the man had been trembling profusely when Will picked up the work. He had exclaimed over its craftsmanship and rewarded the man with an additional sum, the cold light in his eyes the best assurance that nobody but them would know it had been made. He presented it to Hannibal, who had wept unabashedly as it was placed before the grave of his sister. He went out every morning of their stay to talk to her, and Will had held his hand as he promised her a return visit, no matter the rest of the ghosts that haunted the grounds. Will had taken him below to show him what had become of the last man that had consumed her flesh, and his eyes had glowed with love and awe such as Will had never seen. They did not make love within the walls of the Lecter home. It would have tainted Hannibal’s soul to experience love in a place where so much horror of his past existed. Will understood, and quietly took his hand when they took their leave of the property. The train ride had been their sanctuary, and Hannibal allowed himself the fragility of the past until they were out of the country. He came through the experience stronger than he had been, and Will stood proudly at his side as he shed the skin of his experiences. 

When they arrived in France, Will had been overwhelmed with the beauty of their surroundings. They took many days just to explore the city, the countryside and the life they would be making within its walls. They killed for the first time since Dolarhyde, both taking the pleasure of the kill as if it was their first time. They had dined on the liver first, and had made love in the bathtub for hours, refilling the water as it cooled. When Will was about to fall asleep, Hannibal had carried him to bed, laying him amongst the sheets of their bed as if it were their wedding night. The thought had so affected Will that they had spent many more hours of the night consuming one another, and had not called a ceasefire until the sun was firmly planted in the sky. Their sleep cycle suffered for a few days, but their nocturnal hungers made up for their lack of time in the sun. When the weather began to cool, Will had a decent grasp on speaking French, and although he couldn’t hold conversations to the extent that Hannibal was able, he charmed the people they spoke to when he tried. The couples within their social circle made it clear they’d want invitations to their wedding, a thought that made Will’s face flush with equal parts embarrassment and joy at the prospect. Hannibal always smiled enigmatically and pulled him into a gentle kiss, much to the delight of the others.

Two weeks prior, Will had tried to warn him that they were being followed. Hannibal had quelled his fears, ensuring him that if they were, acting normal would be their best bet in ensuring they were not suspect. They had continued their social engagements, dinner parties, and frequent visits during daylight hours to vineyards, selecting new bottles and vintages of wine to be added to their wine cellar. They held hands and laughed, frequently ate out at restaurants close to home and took in all manners of theater. Will’s suits were often in use, much to Hannibal’s delight, and their lovemaking took on a fervent passion such as Will had no knowledge of existing prior to belonging to Hannibal. Everything had been perfect until the day that Hannibal had left for the market, kissing Will’s lips with a promise to bring home fresh strawberries for the tart he wanted to make them for dessert. They were celebrating an anniversary of sorts, after all. Now, Will sat in front of their fireplace, too distraught and terrified to move far from it. He drank little and ate less, falling into fevered dreaming of Hannibal’s cries before his eyes would spring open in terrified exhaustion. Every day, he made a cautious loop, searching for news that they were alive and someone was looking for them. Each day, he was greeted by those who had come to adore them, asking about his wellbeing and when they’d be around for dinner. Going through the motions was becoming more and more difficult as time wore on.

***

On the eighth night of his solitude and despair, the door to the drawing room opened, and an exhausted but very much alive Hannibal tumbled through. The door was closed and locked before he attempted to move from where he lay, bruised and obviously distressed. Will wasn’t sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and so he clung to his spot on the couch, staring at the fire until Hannibal spoke to him, voice strained in the hush of their home.

“Will-” Will sprang to his feet, throwing the blanket that had been his fortress from his shoulders and hurried to the doctor’s side. His face was scraped and bruised, his hair caked with dirt and blood. One hand was cradled to his stomach with a finger badly sprained. Other than these surface injuries, he appeared in one piece. Will knelt and comforted him, speaking in soft, steady tones he was unable to source. Every part of him wanted to demand answers, but he knew they would come. All he could do right now was take care of the man who had given him his life. They carefully worked their way back to the bedroom where Will stripped Hannibal’s dirt stained clothes from his body and assessed the damage. There was some severe bruising to his ribs, the skin painted in distressing shades of black and blue. The flesh was raised and Will felt the overwhelming need to kiss every inch of skin exposed, ensure that Hannibal knew that he was there and that he would take care of him. He hesitated in kissing his face, knowing that Hannibal would want to get clean before they could be comfortable with any kind of intimacy. He started the shower so he could wash the doctor’s hair, but insisted a bath would be necessary after to soak the soreness in his damaged back and ribs. He helped Hannibal into the shower, washing his scalp carefully of the debris he found, cleaning the wounds that bloomed across his body like horrible flowers. _I will hurt whoever did this. They will die screaming._

Once his hair was clean, Will filled the tub with the hottest water they could stand and helped Hannibal in, getting in behind him to hold him up as he soaked. It took long, painful minutes to get the story. It had been in the market, he said bitterly. Completely unrelated to who he was and only because of what he had in his pockets. They had captured him in hopes of a ransom, but had been deterred when the son of one of the noblemen happened by and heard his cries. They had rescued and released him, understanding with perfect clarity who would be missing him and his need to get home. Seven days of pure horror, away from the only man he had ever loved. Will wept into the water, thankful and terrified in equal measure. Anger and retribution could come later, when Hannibal was well enough to allow it. As their tears fell into the water, washing away his despair, he whispered into his lover’s ear endearments and reassurances. They would destroy the men who did this. The nobleman would ensure they were trapped until it was time.

When Will helped him from the water and tucked him into bed, he extinguished the lights in their home before returning to the bed himself. Ensconced in Hannibal’s embrace, he freed his worst fear into the air, letting it out in a fresh burst of tears.

“I thought you were dead.” Hannibal smiled, the movement looking painful as he pulled Will closer. 

“Yet here I am. I will always return to you, Will. I love you. I love you so very much.” The brush of their lips was gentle before Will wound his way beneath the covers, reverently kissing every inch of skin he could find. Hannibal’s hands tightened in his curls as he bathed his cock in long wet licks, coaxing him to hardness so he could ride him. The pace they set that night was slow and deep. The stretch made Will feel as if he could never be complete without the feeling Hannibal’s body gave him; comfort and love and intense arousal. He wound their fingers together as he stared into the bloodstained gold gaze, riding him until there was no doubt that he was home, he was safe and loved. Their climaxes came minutes apart, Will striping Hannibal’s chest as he moaned his name, whispering broken professions of love against his skin. Hannibal’s release was so powerful, he almost blacked out from its intensity. When Will returned with a towel to clean them, Hannibal’s smile of gratitude set his soul on fire. _There you are._ _Thank any deity that is listening that you are home and safe within my arms_. He climbed in next to the doctor, wrapping his arms carefully around his injuries. They kissed until they slept, and even in slumber, their lips touched on occasion, a gentle reminder of who they were to one another.

***

The package arrived on their doorstep four days later. Hannibal was glad for the timing, as Will was resting in their bedroom while he cleaned their dishes from their late morning meal. He retrieved it from the round eyed boy who delivered it, inspecting the note on the inside before retrieving the box that had been taken from him in his capture. He smiled and went inside to finish the dishes, mentally adding the nobleman’s name as his guest of honor for the dinner party he was planning. He tucked the ring into his pocket for safekeeping, smiling at the good fortune that it had been retrieved. Hannibal finished the dishes and made his way to his office to finalize the invitations to the event three days hence, where the most important question he had ever asked would be requested of the man asleep in their bed. He already knew the answer, but he couldn’t contain his joy to just the two of them. He had waited his entire life to find the man he’d spend the rest of his life loving, and everyone around them should know.

He only hoped that Will would concede to a wedding in France.


End file.
